The Tale of Flopsy Bunnies. Continued…
Then the mouse came out of her jam pot, and Benjamin took the paper bag off his
head, and they told the doleful tale. Benjamin and Flopsy were in despair, they could not undo the string. But Mrs. Tittlemouse was a resourceful person. She nibbled a hole in the bottom corner of the sack.
The little rabbits were pulled out and pinched to wake them. Their parents stuffed the empty sack with three rotten vegetable marrows, an old blacking-brush and two decayed turnips.
Then they all hid under a bush and watched for Mr. McGregor.
The watched him go into his house. And then they crept up to the window to listen.
Mr. McGregor threw down the sack on the stone floor in a way that would have been extremely painful to the Flopsy Bunnies, if they had happened to have been inside it. They could hear him drag his chair on the flags, and chuckle “One, two, three, four, five, six leetle rabbits!” said Mr. McGregor.
“Eh? What’s that? What have they been spoiling now?” enquired Mrs. McGregor. “One, two, three, four, five, six leetle fat rabbits!” repeated Mr. McGregor, counting on his fingers “one, two, three” “Don’t you be silly; what do you mean, you silly old man?” “In the sack! one, two, three, four, five, six!” replied Mr. McGregor. (The youngest Flopsy Bunny got upon the window sill.) Mrs. McGregor took hold of the sack and felt it. She said she could feel six, but they must be old rabbits, because they were so hard and all different shapes. “Not fit to eat; but the skins will do fine to line my old cloak.” “Line your old cloak?” shouted Mr. McGregor “I shall sell them and buy myself baccy!” “Rabbit tobacco! I shall skin them and cut off their heads.”
Mrs. McGregor untied the sack and put her hand inside. When she felt the vegetables she became very very angry. She said that Mr. McGregor had “done it a purpose.”
And Mr. McGregor was very angry too. One of the rotten marrows came flying through the kitchen window, and hit the youngest Flopsy Bunny. It was rather hurt.
Then Benjamin and Flopsy thought that it was time to go home.
So Mr. McGregor did not get his tobacco, and Mrs. McGregor did not get her rabbit skins.
But next Christmas Thomasina Tittlemouse got a present of enough rabbit-wool to make herself a cloak and a hood, and a handsome muff and a pair of warm mittens.